


Precognition

by dark_owl_records



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Realities, Humor, Implied Matt Holt/Shiro, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Season/Series 03, Secret Relationship, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17240543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_owl_records/pseuds/dark_owl_records
Summary: Lance's eyes were sunken with fatigue but sharp with a short temper when he finally looked up to meet Shiro’s gaze. His annoyance melted into disbelief as he took in his friend standing in front of him.“You look…”“Like shit?” Shiro asked flatly.“No.” He stepped away from the holo-screen, slowly approaching Shiro with scrutinizing eyes. “You look younger.”~When Lance finds himself surrounded by team Voltron ten years younger, shit gets weird. But maybe he's not alone.





	Precognition

Judging by Pidge’s makeshift watch, it was around three in the morning. She had explained to them that it’s meant to be in sync with their own biological clocks. “Try not to think about it too hard,” she had said “just use it to know when to sleep and eat.” 

Shiro was trudging down the dimly lit castle hallways, the 3:04 AM glaring at him, when he heard it. 

‘It’, more specifically was a curse. 

“You fucking piece of shit,” muttered a low, hostile voice. It wasn’t hard to tell who it belonged to. 

Sighing, Shiro reluctantly followed the noise, the light spilling from the nearby doorway guiding him. 

“Lance?” he asked, roughly pressing the heel of his palms to his eyes. “What are you doing?” He kept his gaze on the floor as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. Daring to glance up, he could see it was radiating from the holo-screen Lance was huddled over.

This was expected behaviour for Pidge or Coran maybe, but Lance was always first to preach about the importance of beauty sleep. Team Voltron had just returned from a particularly grueling mission, involving a small cult of Zarkon sympathizers and a faked distress beacon. Shiro had already seen all the paladins off to bed for some much needed rest, so he was surprised to see anyone up.

“Oh, hey, Shiro,” Lance said, not bothering to look up. His fingers pinched at the suspended screen, watching it fill with text as he tapped an insistent rhythm on the counter. “Sorry if i woke you up.”

“No, it’s okay. I was just going to the kitchen for a glass of water,” he answered weakly.

“It’s just this whole Alturi thing has just been bothering me since yesterday, I can’t figure it out,” Lance let out an exasperated breath. 

Shiro lowered his hand shielding his eyes. “Olkari?”

“No, Alturi, Shiro, come on,” Lance urged.

Shiro squinted at his friend. Though his face was obscured through the blue light, he was able to tell something was different. Even his sleep addled brain couldn’t make up that five o’clock shadow and cropped hair, not to mention the broadened shoulders. 

He froze, suddenly feeling much more alert. “Whoa, Lance, you look…”

“Like shit?” he laughed without humor. “Yeah, Keith kept trying to get me back to bed but I can’t sleep. These eye-bags are a problem for future Lance.” 

“Uhm.”

“I just don’t get this message,” he continued, “Matt is getting annoyed at me at this point, he says he’s sure he translated it right but something is off, i just—” the image glitched, freezing before it began shifting rapidly and filling with angry red symbols. “Oh, what the fuck, it’s bugging now,” Lance hissed. He hit the base of the machine repeatedly with the side of his fist. It reminded Shiro of the time Lance and Hunk were cheated by a vending machine during one of their rare pit stops. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen the pair more outraged. 

Shiro’s attention, however, was suddenly yanked in a different direction. “What do you mean Matt translated a message?” He took a step forward. “Did he contact you?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Lance halted his frantic thumping, “he sleeps in your bed! I get you just woke up but you’re being really fucking slow right now.”

His eyes were sunken with fatigue but sharp with a short temper when he finally looked up to meet Shiro’s gaze. His annoyance melted into disbelief as he took in his friend standing in front of him.

“You look…”

“Like shit?” Shiro asked flatly.

“No.” He stepped away from the holo-screen, slowly approaching Shiro with scrutinizing eyes. “You look younger.” Looking him up and down, Lance circled around him before stopping in front of him and grabbing him roughly by the face, inspecting him closely. Shiro let out a sound of indignant surprise. “Did you dye your hair?”

“What? No,” he pulled himself away from Lance’s grip, rubbing his sore face. That’s when Lance noticed his arm, right arm to be more specific.

“I knew you looked younger,” his tone had completely changed, more threatening than Shiro had ever heard it before. 

Lance raised his bayard, which Shiro hadn’t seen was resting at his hip before, and it quickly took form. However, rather than its usual blue, it was glaringly red. He didn't let the surprise show in his face though. At this distance he could really see how different Lance looked—something was going on and Shiro was very aware he did not have the upper hand. 

“Who the fuck are you,” Lance said slowly, voice dripping with venom. It felt more like an accusation than a question. 

In no condition to fight, Shiro said the only thing he could with a gun pointed square to his chest. He took a deep breath. “If you’re really Lance, then your friend.”

Lance laughed again, that same hollow laugh. “Nice try, but I’ve dealt with Shiro clones before.” He nudged his bayard forward, bumping Shiro’s chest. “This time they didn’t even bother getting the age right,” he tutted.

This Lance was not only different physically, he had a ragged edge Shiro did not recognize. 

A cold sweat started to form at the nape of his neck, he was quickly losing control of the situation. “Just lower your bayard, Lance. I’m not a threat, you can see that,” he raised his arms, bringing attention to his loose pajamas and missing bayard, “we can work this out.” 

“You’re a threat as long as you have that.” Lance nodded to the prosthetic. “So, if you don’t mind, I’m not putting this baby down just yet.” He nudged Shiro again. “Turn around, we’re going to the control room.” The gun stayed pointed to his lower back as they began to walk out of the room. 

Being led with a weapon digging into his side was unsettlingly familiar. Shiro focused on the distinctly blue glow along the castle walls to keep himself anchored. Once they had made it to the control room, Lance ordered him to sit with his hands on his head, keeping the blaster steady in one hand as he began manipulating the castles main system with the other.

Shiro hadn’t realized before how easily Lance was navigating the Altean technology. Pidge was tentatively beginning to learn the language and could somewhat work with the castle controls. This, however, was nothing like what she could do—he worked with it as if it were second nature. Shiro wasn’t entirely sure how to process that, bringing on more questions than it answered. Really, he was just praying this was all a strange, stress induced dream. 

There wasn’t much time to savor that idea before Lance was pressing his hand down, causing the alarm immediately roar to life. The flashing red and incessant blaring would quickly summoned the rest of the team, even if it was some sort of trap. Shiro was willing to bet on six against one. This Lance was probably thinking the same thing. 

Before a minute had even been up, Allura and Coran rushed in with Keith and Pidge close behind. Hunk followed them in by a few seconds, struggling to assemble his armor as he hurried to meet the others. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he called as he hopped in, adjusting one of this feet. “I’m not late this time!”

He was met with silence from his teammates, though, their ready-for-action attitudes having quickly faded. None of them were prepared to see a rugged, older looking Lance pointing the red bayard to Shiro’s head. 

Keith immediately looked down to his own hand, still holding his bayard.

“What in the fresh hell-” Pidge began.

Lance’s unwavering stance collapsed then, looking just as concerned as everyone else. His eyes searched his friends only to find they were just as young as Shiro. He tightened his grip on the blaster and taking a slow breath said, “Okay so everyone is a clone now, I get it.”

“Lance, I don’t know what’s going on but you need to put the bayard down,” Allura warned, “I won’t let this situation escalate any further.”

“Look, it’s been a long night.” He ignored Allura, aiming his words more to the ceiling if anything, as if trying to reason with some invisible force. “I am very tired and I’m not a huge fan of mind games, so whoever is in charge of this, I would really appreciate it if you cut the shit so I could go to bed.”

That’s when the doors slid open again. The mechanic hiss was jarring in the heavy silence that followed Lance’s outburst. 

Lion slippers softly thumped into the room. “How many times are we gonna do this dumb exercise, Princess?” the teen yawned. He ran his fingers through his bed head, untroubled by whatever was going on, stumbling over to join in his place next to Hunk. 

Lance gaped and let out a strained sound, lowering his blaster helplessly as he looked at his own younger reflection. This caught the other Lance’s attention, eyes widening as he grasped the situation which had everyone else speechless, standing vulnerable and lost in his soft pajamas.

That is the moment Shiro decided to tackle his captor. The red bayard slipped from Lance’s hand with a clatter as he was pinned to the ground. “Aw, fuck.”

——————————

If truth be told, Lance had a terrible internal clock, but if he had to guess he’d say he’d been retained in the bunk room for around five hours. He wasn’t sure if it was a psychological tactic to wear him out, but it was certainly working. He struggled just to stay awake in the dim room. The worst thing was that he was cuffed to the Altean equivalent to a radiator, just out of reach of the bed he so craved. He understood why this was the best place to keep him, it was relatively small and the doors locked, but god if it didn’t add a layer to his torment. It wasn’t as if he could sleep anyway, he needed to stay alert. 

Things hadn’t really shook out like he’d wanted, especially after he’d choked up and gotten tackled. After some initial panic he’d been shoved in here and hadn’t had any contact since. At least this gave him time to think. It didn’t really make sense that they were all clones considering what a big operation that would be, only to mess up their ages that badly. Anyway, why would he be the target? So far he didn’t have any answers.

Lance was finally granted some company when the doors slid open to reveal Allura. Her hair was pinned back messily and as bad as Lance felt, she didn’t look much better. She carried herself with composure, but he knew Allura, if this was in fact her, and he could see the anxiety she held in her shoulders. She cleared her throat before speaking.

“Shiro has recounted his memory of the events early this morning.”

“And hello to you too, princess, did you all have breakfast without me?”

She ignores him. “He says you were using the ships interface with a surprising level of competency. This was a concern as we initially thought you were attempting to hack our system, but Pidge had something else to say. You were researching using our online database library, with no aid of foreign technology or translation. This can only mean one thing.” She takes a long breath. “You not only have at least a basic understanding of the Altean Language, but you are familiar with the Castle’s mainframe.”

Lance hums absentmindedly. 

“Now, I need to ask, how do you posses such knowledge?” Her eyes earnestly bore into his, but he stared right back, unphased. 

“Coran taught me,” he said simply.

She huffed in annoyance. “He couldn’t have. I know you look like Lance, but you can’t fool us.” The princess took a step forward. “How do you posses this knowledge?” she repeated.

“I look like Lance because I am Lance, and I know Altean because Coran gave us all language lessons when I was nineteen. Pidge is the one who showed me how to use the castle’s system after that,” he smirked, “and judging by how much this is stressing you out, I’m starting to think you have as little idea of what’s going on as I do.”

Allura frowned, this wasn’t really shaking out how she’d hoped either. She considered for a moment before saying, “Hold out your hand.”

Now, this surprised Lance. “Uh, what?”

She gestured for him to present his hand. He narrowed his eyes before reluctantly raising his palm to her, straining against the cuffs. Her hands quickly took hold of his, examining them. Then without any warning and much too fast for Lance to react, she took out a pin from her hair and pricked his finger. 

He yanked his hand back. “Ow! What the hell, Allura?”

She didn’t acknowledge his reaction, only nodded and said, “We’ll see what the results have to say for you, Lance.” Then she turned on her heel and walked out.

He only barely managed to get a word in before the doors closed behind her. “DNA doesn’t lie, princess!”

Then he was alone again. 

——————————

It was actually only a few minutes before Lance had company again. 

He was surprised to see Hunk, Keith, and Pidge enter when he raised his head to the light pouring in. They hung back near the door awkwardly, as if unsure how to proceed. 

Lance smiled playfully, raising his hands for show. “You guys mind loosening these cuffs for your old pal?”

Hunk fidgeted nervously and looked to Keith, who looked serious as ever.

“Oh come on, I’m not a threat,” he complained, “I’m super chill, look at me.” He gestured to himself, leaning slack against the wall. 

“You took our leader hostage, and if you’re anything like the Lance we know, you have the impulse control of a puppy,” said Keith. “The handcuffs stay on.”

An offended squawk from behind the group immediately gave away the other Lance’s position just outside the view of the door frame. Having accepted this, the teen shuffled into the room to join the others, staring daggers at Keith.

“See?"

Handcuffed Lance, however, was also amused. “To be fair, I was in a very tense situation,” he argued, “and I think my impulse control would really benefit from being less on edge. These cuffs are really doing a number on me, you see.”

Keith frowned. “The cuffs stay.”

“If you’re not here to free me and you’re not here to feed me, why are you here?” Lance asked, exasperated. “As much as I enjoy the company, I have a feeling you’re not here to hang.”

That’s when Pidge spoke up, smiling maliciously. “We’re here to interrogate you.”

“Well not so much interrogate as quiz,” Hunk admitted.

Pidge sighed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “That sounds way less cool, but yeah. We need to establish character.”

“She means Lance is gonna quiz you on Lance stuff to see if you’re actually Lance,” Hunk said.

“Dude, again. Less cool.”

“To avoid confusion, from now on you’re Lance,” Keith pointed to his team mate, “and you’re Alvarez,” he gestured to his cuffed doppelgänger. 

“What about, you call me Lance and call him Lancito,” suggested Alvarez.

“No,” said Keith, "I think my system is fine.”

Lance stepped forward, “I’m gonna start by saying I don’t think this imposter is me because I don’t like him and I think that should be noted.”

“Not noted,” deadpanned Pidge. “Let’s just get the quiznacking quizzing started.”

“Hold on, what makes you think I’ll cooperate?” Alvarez questioned with a raised brow.

“Thought you were chill,” Pidge challenges. “Cooperating gets you out of those cuffs.”

He considered for a moment, before shrugging. “I suppose some childhood trivia won’t change anything. Go on Lancito, shoot.”

“Uh,” Lance looked around at the others, “in front of everyone?”

“What you want everyone to leave?” Alvarez squinted.

“Fine.” Lance leaned forward and pointed a finger square at his counterpart. “What did mamá say the day we left for the garrison?” he challenged. 

Surprised by the question, Alvarez laughed, his face softening at the question. “Hijo, te amo más que a nada en este mundo, pero si consigues a alguien embarazada, te retorceré el cuello como un maldito pollito.”

“What does that mean?” Pidge asked.

Lance sighed, “It means, I love you more than anything but if you get anyone pregnant I'll wring you neck like a chicken.”

“Wow, that’s dark,” Hunk said, shaking his head. He turned to look at his friend, who had developed a pronounced pout at that point.

Pidge practically screamed with laughter, Keith unable to resist a smile either. “As if your mom actually thought you’d get any,” she wiped a tear from her eye. “Did that really happen?”

“Yes,” said Lance curtly, “it did. This doesn’t prove anything yet though,” he steps back, “he could be messing with our heads or something.”

“And you could be messing with my head, amigo,” Alvarez shot right back.

“Well, amigo,” said Lance, “I’m not the one in handcuffs right now.” He demonstrated, shaking his bare wrists.

“Don’t make me reveal all of you embarrassing secrets, Lancito,” Alvarez warned, wagging a finger, “mind tricks or not, you know I will.” 

Lance’s look was challenging, “Won’t you just be embarrassing yourself then?”

“Only if we’re the same person.”

Hunk groaned. “This is hurting my brain.”

“How many siblings do we have?” Lance continued.

“Firstly, I would like to point out he said ‘we’, and also three,” Alvarez answered with ease.

“Whatever, name them!”

“Marco, Luis, and Veronica,” said Alvarez. “You know what, I can also tell you that Marco called us booger brains all of elementary school, Luis used to eat the cat food when he thought no one was looking, and Veronica read our diary when we were eleven and we cried for three weeks.”

Lance flushed red, his friends could only assume it was from both embarrassment and frustration. “You know what, none of this proves anything.”

“Or does it prove everything?” Alvarez shoots back.

Pidge was fully rapt in the Lances’ interaction. “This is by far the weirdest thing I’ve been a part of and I fly a giant green sentient lion spaceship.”

“Agreed,” said Hunk.

——————————

“Okay, now this is just ridiculous,” Alvarez said.

After a lot of back and forth between him and Lance, they team (minus Lance) had decided that it was safe enough to move him to the kitchen to eat. Turns out they had not eaten breakfast without him. However he had to remain restrained.

To the radiator. 

“I’ll be honest, I never noticed these things much around the castle, but now they’ll be the first thing I see. Fucking radiators.” He watched as his captors served themselves food enviously as his stomach rumbled loudly. “Guys, please, I’m wasting away.”

“They’re not radiators,” Pidge corrected, “They’re CO2 recyclers, kind of like trees.”

“Yeah, great, great,” Alvarez mumbled.

“I don’t know if we’re allowed to feed you,” Keith admitted, scooping more green slop onto his plate.

“Allowed? What do you mean allowed?”

Keith shrugged. “Allura didn’t say anything about food.”

“Then why am I here?” Alvarez groaned.

“We got hungry,” Hunk defended.

“So you’re allowed to move me but not give me a bowl of food goo? I don’t even need a spork, if that’s what you’re worried about, no weapons,” he promised.

Keith shook his head, moving to grab a spork of his own. 

“Sorry, dude,” offered Hunk.

“Where is Shiro? He’s still in charge right, maybe he can give food permission?” Alvarez reasoned.

“Shiro’s resting,” said Keith, “Allura forced him to take a break after this morning. Remember?”

Alvarez whistled awkwardly. “Oh, heh, yeah.”

That’s when he walked in. 

His shirt clung to his sweat damp frame, and he wiped at forehead messily with the back of his hand. Strands of loose hair stuck flat to it, the rest pulled back into a hairband. It left the entire room staring at him in shock. The first thing he noticed, though, was Alvarez handcuffed.

“Keith!” Alvarez called happily, pushing to move forward before being held back by his wrists. “Ah, shit.” He landed awkwardly on his hip, hanging by his restraints. 

“Uh why is Lance-” he began, before taking in the young faces around him. That’s when he saw himself, standing next to an upright teenage Lance. His immediate reaction was to reach for his bayard, and jaws drop around the room as he unsheathed a very clearly black sword.

Pidge was the first to speak up. “What the fuck.”

“I could ask the same thing.” His grip on his bayard tightened. 

“Babe, before you go all protective mode,” Alvarez said, raising his cuffed hand, “would you mind?”

Keith moved forward quickly, and slashing downward easily breaks the bonds, freeing him. 

The cuffs hung loose from his wrists, now in two pieces. He stretched and sighed happily at his release, standing up. “Finally! Thank you,” he singsonged, leaning forward towards Keith and suddenly plucking something from his head. He twirled the bobby pin between his fingers before working it into his restraints. 

Keith was still on high alert, turning to guard Alvarez as he fiddled with the lock. “Explain,” he said, “you have fifteen ticks.”

Pidge moved forward deliberately. “We—”

That was when Coran appeared, Allura following closely behind. “There you all are! It’s a match! Lance and him share the same DNA.” He stopped in his tracks, noticing a second sword wielding Keith. “Oh my. Another one?”

“Wait, wait, so what does that mean for us exactly?” Hunk asked. 

Allura cleared her throat, stepping forward, “Ah well, it means the only difference between our Lance and this one is ten years of age.”

“Ah.” Keith lowered his bayard just enough to still be a threat. “We time travelled?”

Alvarez shrugged, metal clanking to the floor as he rubbed at his wrist. “Yeah, I guess.” He stepped forward, placing his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t trust them just yet though. Could be a trick—witchy magic hallucination sort of deal.”

Keith only hums in response.

“Now that we know you’re who you say you are, how can we prove to you that we are?” Allura asked, ever the diplomat. 

“Oh, I got this,” old Keith, or Gyeong, said. 

He approached his younger self, and finally deactivating his bayard, offered his hand out to him. Keith looked at it hesitantly before reaching to meet it with his. Gyeong pulled it lightly towards him at the contact, turning it around in his grasp. Everyone watched in silence, as Gyeong softly tapped at his palm twice with two fingers. Keith looked up from his hand in surprise, frozen for a moment before he tugged his hand back, clenching it into a fist. 

Gyeong looked up over his shoulder, ignoring the glare directed at him. “Yeah, this is me.” He moved to rejoin Alvarez at his side. 

He shrugged, satisfied with Gyeong’s assessment. “Alright.”

“Wait,” said Hunk, “that’s it?”

“Yep,” Alvarez answered simply. 

Keith’s gaze had turned to favor the floor, refusing to look at any of his team mates in their confusion. Gyeong’s only explanation was, “I know me when I see him.”

Alvarez places his arm on Gyeong’s shoulder, leaning onto him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s good enough for me.”

“Lovely!” Coran claps his hands together. “How about some breakfast, then?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed :-)


End file.
